


keep them in the dark on who you are

by LtTanyaBoone



Series: a walk to the summit at night [3]
Category: Cardinal (TV 2017)
Genre: Background Character Death, Canon Lesbian Character, Episode Tag, F/F, Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 14:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17830307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "If she stays the night, then she will have to face, this, in the morning. Will have to face what Dyson and her just did. And there’s no way that won’t end in disaster."//sort of episode tag to S03E03 & S03E04 (so spoilers!) with adjustments to make it fit with the events of the other works in"a walk to the summit at night"





	keep them in the dark on who you are

**Author's Note:**

> this picks up immediately after the events of [and you are walking in circles](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637623)
> 
> **trigger warnings/content warnings** for: death, grief, mental health issues/mental illness, discussion of suicide
> 
> title inspired by the lyrics to ["Familiar" by Agnes Obel](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32kYH6XZrIo), which the Cardinal theme song is based on
> 
> my initial reaction to dyson's "tell me what you need, lise" was a pretty undignified shriek, tbh. i hadn't really planned on continuing this, after s03e03 aired and i didn't see anything i wanted to incorporate into this kind of series, but then the next episode happened and i just, yeah.

It was a mistake. She knows that. Knows it immediately after, when her heart rate is slowing down, a shiver running through her as the sweat on Lise’s skin starts cooling down. There’s a big lump in her throat, one that makes it nearly impossible to swallow. She closes her eyes briefly, drawing a slow breath. Tries to fight down the sudden well of tears that are burning in her eyes.

They shouldn’t have done this. It was wrong. It’s not helping, it’s not healing. It’s just a, a quick distraction. A few moments, or perhaps a bit longer, where they don’t have to confront their thoughts. Where they just get to feel, to be with each other. But when it’s over, when the dust settles and their heart rates are slowing down again, all the problems, all those thoughts, they’re still there. Are waiting, lurking in the darkness, hovering above their heads.

Next to her, Dyson lets out a deep breath. Lise turns her head a little and watches as the smaller woman’s eyes slowly drift shut. Watches, as Noelle’s features relax into sleep.

Delorme swallows, her fingers twitching. She reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face, but catches herself at the last minute. She’d probably end up waking her, and that is by far the last thing Delorme wants to do. Noelle needs the rest. Needs some sleep, desperately. Lise had seen the dark circles, has seen the shadows beneath her eyes. And even if it’s just a couple of hours, Noelle deserves some rest. A bit of calm, where she won’t have to think about what’s been happening. When the pain of her sister’s death isn’t constantly on her mind. Where her inability to save the poor boy from killing himself has a chance to fade into the background.

Slowly, carefully, Delorme moves. Gets out of bed and gathers her clothes in the dim light of the lamp on Dyson’s bedside table. The belt of her pants rattles and she quickly grabs the buckle, biting back a curse.

In bed, Dyson stirs briefly, face twitching, before she turns it further into the pillow and relaxes again. She waits with bated breath, but when the woman doesn’t stir further, Delorme lets out a relieved sigh.

Lise puts on her pants, carefully buckling the belt. She keeps the bra and her blouse in her hands, sneaking over to the door. Puts on the bra and then the blouse, though she doesn’t button it. It would take too much time. The longer she stays here, the more tempting it is, to climb back into bed. To curl up with Dyson and fall asleep. Pretend that she just fell asleep come morning.

But she knows she won’t stay. Even though it is mightily tempting, she can’t do it. Jane is just down the hall, they can’t risk her waking up from a nightmare and finding Delorme in her aunt’s bed. It would confuse her, and what is more, it would complicate things even more, with Sylvie. Whatever Dyson’s arrangement with her ex-wife is, Delorme doesn’t want to step on any more toes than she already has, by sleeping with her DS.

Plus, if she stays the night, then she will have to face, this, in the morning. Will have to face what Dyson and her just did. And there’s no way that won’t end in disaster. The two of them, they’re not… They’re not good, at talking about this. About what was going on, between them. It was fine at first, when it started. Gave some strange kind of comfort. That they had a sort of, silent understanding, with each other. That they didn’t need to talk about what was happening between them, that they just understood each other on some fundamental level. But as time went on, their initial avoidance of discussing this, it made it difficult to start the conversation. And the more time passed, that difficulty and hesitation to suddenly give voice to it, to draw attention to what they were doing.

She slips into her blouse and grabs her shoes, leaving the bedroom. She leaves the door slightly ajar, afraid that closing it will cause Noelle to wake up. She sneaks down the hallway on the balls of her feet and grabs her coat, making sure she has her keys and phone, before she opens the door to the house and puts on her shoes as she steps into the night, closing the door behind herself.

* * *

Back when she’d still been married and things had started to deteriorate between her and her husband, Delorme had briefly considered having sex with someone else. When she was looking for a way, to make Josh see she was unhappy, but had lacked a good way of expressing it, she’d wondered if sleeping with someone and leaving her husband to find the evidence of her betrayal, if that might have been a way to finally get through to him. To make him see and understand that she was feeling, overwhelmed and trapped and all these different, complex things that he seemed to be blind to.

Ultimately, she hadn’t done it. It would certainly have been a big container of gasoline she’d have thrown onto the smoldering fire she’d already started. But she’d realized that, besides hurting Josh beyond the point of no return, she also hadn’t wanted to drag someone else into the mess her marriage had become. Plus, she’d been rather certain that, if she did this, then their marriage would have been over. Josh wouldn’t have forgiven that kind of betrayal. And back then, Delorme had still wanted to save their marriage, to salvage their relationship, somehow.

Right now, she can’t help but wonder, why people do it. Why they are doing this, to their partners. The humiliation when it comes out, she thinks should be enough to detract most people. But even those extremely keen on preserving their reputation, people like Randall Wishart, their fear of being discovered, it doesn’t stop them from pursuing an affair.

What it does, however, is make them desperate to keep their secrets. Even at the expense of the safety of the other person.

Men really are pigs, Delorme can’t help herself but think. And Randall Wishart, well, he seems to be a prime specimen, right there.

She thinks, if you’re going to screw around, at least have the guts to admit to it, when you’re found out. Man, or woman, whatever the case may be, up, and stand by what you did. Accept the bloody consequences for your actions.

Asshole Wishart - pardon, Randall, is a goddamn coward and idiot in her book. And Delorme feels so bad, for whoever it is that he is having this affair with. Even if she’d thought she knew what she’d be getting herself into, even if she’d been aware of his wife, this is way beyond that. Is well beyond anything any woman sleeping with a married man might have expected. Agreeing to sleep with a married man, that’s vastly different from being witness to a murder. Delorme really hopes that, whoever she is, she knows how to stay safe, since Asshole Wishart doesn’t seem to be interested in helping her. Which just absolutely gets her blood boiling. It’s not about his damn reputation. This is about keeping his partner save, and find out who did this. Who killed Roman and Irina Barstow. But Wishart, he doesn’t seem to care about anything or anyone besides himself, and Delorme could just absolutely strangle him for his disregard for others.

* * *

Part of her wonders, if at least some of Dyson’s anger, right now, is because of how Delorme left things, last night. That she, sneaked out. Left, like some thief in the night, after the other woman had fallen asleep.

But then again, what had Dyson expected? That she’d stay? The older woman certainly never asked her to, when they first started doing, this. It was always clear, where the line in that regard was. They were having sex, and nothing more, nothing less. Were scratching each other’s itches, taking care of their needs. It is good sex, Delorme’s not knocking it. The older woman certainly know what she is doing, and Delorme very much enjoys the experience she has in this area. Can appreciate it and the wonderful sensations it brings. But once it’s over, it leaves the two of them, leaves Dyson and her kind of, hanging in mid-air.

The two of them, they have to have a professional relationship with each other, and that kind of gets shot, when you know what your boss looks like, at the moment of orgasm. When you have given them a couple of those.

The thing is, she doesn’t really know, how to talk to Dyson any more. It’s gotten all so complicated, all so terribly mixed up. Delorme is not sure that, when they’re talking, who she’s speaking to. Whether it is her boss, or her friend, or her (ex-)lover. They’re all, all the same person. Dyson, she’s all of those things, and that makes it hard, to tell her about this kind of stuff. About any issues at all, at work. Dyson, she has enough on her plate already, what with her sister’s death and taking care of her niece and whatever it is that is going on with her and the woman’s ex-wife. Delorme really doesn’t want to add anything else to that mix.

Even though personally, she is tempted to kick Cardinal, just to help with some of her own frustration, he is still her partner. She’ll defend him to Dyson, always, unless he really screws up. And right now, she can clearly see that her partner is suffering. Can see the anguish reflected in his eyes, the defeat in the slump of his shoulders. Delorme can understand the need to feel like you’re doing, something, for those you love. Appreciates that he has to do something, anything, to somehow help Catherine. Even if that is just finding out who’s sending those notes to him.

It’s easy to tell that Dyson is more than just a little angry, right now. At both of them, though Delorme is pretty sure that the majority of it, it’s directed at her, and not John. She’s mad at him for crossing the line with a parolee, but she’s more upset about Delorme not telling her about the notes and that he is investigating them on his own. Plus, there is their personal, entanglement which certainly is not helping to improve the older woman’s mood.

It really should have occurred to her, before they began doing this. That sleeping with her boss would ruin their working relationship. Would shoot it right in the head. In hindsight, she wonders why it hadn’t. Perhaps she had been lulled into a false sense of security when it seemed like Dyson and her were able to strike a precarious balance, at least at first. She should have known that that was just a, a delay, and that the resulting collapse would be all the more significant.

She never should have slept with her boss. Delorme knows that. She knew it before it happened, too, but in the moment, she hadn’t been able to stop herself. It happened. And then it did again, and again, and again, and she kind of just, gave up trying to stop it from happening. Which is precisely what got her here, standing in front of Dyson’s desk, unable to say what is on her mind, because words are failing her yet again.

She draws a slow breath and shifts.

“This is just, his way of coping,” she offers in defense of Cardinal. Watches, as Dyson’s face hardens. Knows it was the wrong thing to say, right then, but it’s too late, she can’t take those words back now.

“Well, it’s got to stop,” Dyson declares, her eyes darting away, and Lise can feel her heart plummeting at the unspoken message beneath the statement.

They, the two of them, Noelle and her, they have to stop. Having sex with each other, this way of coping, it needs to end. It’s not healthy, and the two of them, they can’t keep doing it. Delorme knows they can’t. Rationally, in her mind, she is well aware of the risks and that they need to put an end to this, activity.

It’s just, hearing Dyson say those words, it makes her realize that there is a huge difference, between what Delorme’s head knows, and what her heart feels. It throws her, for a few moments, as she realizes that emotionally, she doesn’t want this arrangement between them to end. Doesn’t want to lose this connection with Noelle, even if it may be an unhealthy one. Realizes that she’s been missing her, missed her terribly, before last night.

Her jaw works as she ultimately inclines her head in meek acceptance of the older woman’s words.

“I’ll, I’ll talk to him,” she says, shuffling her feet a little. She’d been planning on speaking to Cardinal anyway. Not necessarily to back off, but to, tone down the intensity a little. And to ask him, what was going on. What happened, between him and that parolee. And what had even made him think it might have been that guy that sent the notes to him in the first place.

Delorme reaches up and rubs a hand over her forehead. There’s so much she needs to talk to Cardinal about, and she doesn’t really know how and when. Again, she finds herself being stretched incredibly thin. Between her desire to protect Dyson and keep things running smoothly, for her, and wanting to be there for John and help him through this, and then also having to juggle the Barstow case, it’s, a lot. A lot, for one person to deal with, to try to take care of.

Dyson shakes her head, standing from her chair.

“You haven’t known him for as long as I have,” she shakes her head, starting to walk towards her, and Delorme feels herself instinctively take a step back at the other woman’s look. Her expression, it makes her worry. The storm behind Noelle’s eyes, how distraught she seems, by all of this, it makes Delorme’s heart stutter painfully in her chest. She longs to reach out and take her hand and give it a soft squeeze. Want to just hold it, for a moment, and feel the other woman’s warm skin beneath her fingertips. She thinks she understands where the troubled expression is coming from. The woman’s private life is a mess, right now, and now things at the precinct seem to be slipping out of her control, as well. For someone like Dyson, who needs to feel like she is in charge, that’s a horrible feeling to have to experience.

As the DS opens the door, Lise finds herself attempting to find some words of reassurance. A way of telling Noelle that this is not her fault. To let her know that Delorme will take care of it. She’ll talk sense into Cardinal and get the bone he’s chewing on away from him. But as she looks up, Cardinal is heading for them, and tells them that they may have found the killer, and Delorme’s lips curve into this small grin that she can’t quite manage to fit down.

She wants to say something, to Dyson, but words just seem to fail her. She can’t seem to make up her mind fast enough, on what it is she needs to say, and so Delorme steps out of the office, following Cardinal. She can’t help but look back at Dyson standing right there, looking at Delorme leaving, walking away.

* * *

Sometimes, she can be kind of an asshole. Delorme is well aware of that particular character flaw. Knows that, in her time with CIS, she had gained somewhat of a reputation of being kind of a bitch, at times.

She knows that her decision of making Wishart’s arrest this kind of, dramatic affair, it’s hugely influenced by the man’s dismissive attitude, and his disregard for everyone besides himself. They could have asked him to step outside. Could have just asked him, to come with them. But Delorme decides that no, he doesn’t deserve any regard for protecting his privacy, from them. Not when he has so willingly trampled all over other people and their feelings. Not when he’s been so willing to put the life of his innocent girlfriend at risk, just to keep his precious reputation from being damaged. Watching Cardinal slap the handcuffs around the slimeball’s wrists, that does provide some satisfaction, at least.

If Delorme is being honest, Randall Wishart has made it right to the top of her personal Shitlist. He’s actually managed to dethrone the reporter that had accidentally spilled the beans of her lying to her parents about her whereabouts and dating to her parents. Which is impressive, considering that the guy had been up there for a decade.

Her heart aches for Sam. Having the person you love betray you like that, it’s terrible. It’s painful. And Delorme wishes that she knew what to say, what to do, to soften the blow. But there really isn’t anything that will make this kind of truth easier to bear. To love someone when that person only cares about saving themselves and their reputation, that’s a horrible experience.

Though she will admit, the thought of a First Nations girl shooting the man that she thinks is about to kill her with a crossbow, it does make Delorme’s twitch with mild amusement. It has a kind of, poetic justice kind of ring to it. In her book, the guy deserved it. Even though he’d only been out to mess with her. Though she would have preferred it even more, if it had been Wishart at the business end of the weapon. At least then it would have gotten the guy who deserved it.

* * *

It’s kind of funny, she thinks. She grew up in this town. Left, to go to university, and then came back after, when she’d realized just how homesick she’d been. The thought, of one day leaving Algonquin Bay, it’s not one that has been on her mind in, years. Yet Cardinal seems to think that she is going to. That eventually, she’ll, what? Disappear from his life?

Delorme looks out over the water of Trout Lake, her brows dipping slightly. Her father used to take her here, when she’d been little. Had taken her fishing, until Delorme had eventually grown bored and hadn’t wanted to come along any longer.

She has to admit, watching the divers haul up the Barstow’s boat had been a lot more impressive than watching her father reel in small fish for two hours.

Delorme shifts on her feet, kicking her heel against the wooden planks beneath their feet. They came here, after checking out the Barstows' rental car. The Marina had been halfway back to the precinct, and talking here, where it kind of, began, that had seemed sort of fitting. It is definitely a lot quieter than the precinct would be.

She can feel lips curl up into a small smile at the idea of John Cardinal keeping a folder of the details of the tattoos Algonquin Bay’s population is sporting. Or at least those of the criminal element. It makes her wonder, what he might do, if he knew she has a tattoo herself.

“Maybe you should have.”

Her partner’s words pull her from her thoughts and the smile dies on her face. Delorme frowns, watching his back.

The words sting. Her first instinct, the first interpretation that hits her, is that he wants her gone. Wants her out of his life. It takes her a deliberate breath to realize that this is probably not what Cardinal is trying to say. The guy doesn’t have the best way with words, to be honest. Sometimes, it takes a moment, to puzzle out what he is really trying to say with some of his seemingly harsh statements.

“It was my choice,” she tells him, trying to meet Cardinal’s gaze. She doesn’t succeed, her partner choosing to stare out over the water of Trout Lake instead. It makes her let out a low sigh as she takes in his posture, shoulders hunched and tight with tension.

“John,” she calls his name, stepping up beside him. “I am here,” she tells him yet again, searching his face. “I’m right here, and that is where I’m going to stay.”

She half expects him to make some joke, about how choosing to remain on the pier might not be the best idea, given the current temperatures and the forecast. Instead, Cardinal inhales deeply and Delorme watches him shift slowly. It reminds her of a mountain of rocks, slowly shifting against each other.

“I can’t be holding you back,” he shakes his head.

The words make her heart ache peculiarly. The way they echo a sentiment from weeks ago, when he’d told her he was sorry she was running into issues because of him. When he’d expressed his regret over an opportunity being denied to her simply because she was his partner and her unwillingness to help Musgrave pursue his personal vendetta against him.

Delorme drops her arms before reaching out to rest her hands on the railing. Braces herself against the metal as her eyes scan the water, the small ripples in the otherwise smooth surface of Trout Lake.

“You’re not,” she tells him. Did what happened to Catherine influence her decision to not go to NIS training? Probably. But it had by far not been the only reason. It had actually felt, for the first time in a long while, like she didn’t feel the overpowering urge to run away. She’d wanted to stay. Had felt like people needed her to be there. And she’d wanted to rise up to that, had wanted to be there, for them.

Besides, Cardinal, he’s done a lot, for her. He’s taught her so much. Almost everything she knows, about being a detective in CIS. He’s been her partner since the very beginning of her time in that division, and while they certainly had a rough start, they have come around to each other. He’s taught her a lot, about crime scenes, about motives, about people and their secrets. Has taught her some things about herself, as well. About following her instincts, about going with her gut when things don’t seem to be adding up. And she’s extremely grateful for all of that. For everything he’s done for her, even if he doesn’t notice how much that has been sometimes.

Right now, though, Delorme can feel the silence stretch, between Cardinal and her as he remains quiet. Can feel it become tangible, as the distance between them seems to grow and the beginning tendrils of doubt start seeping in.

She shakes her head, trying to banish any such thoughts. They’re going to be alright. She trusts him, and Cardinal trusts her, as well. They have come a long way, from their beginnings. Of when he hadn’t trusted her as far as he could throw her, and she was investigating him behind his back.

“What about the assault rifle in the trunk?” she asks, turning her attention back to the case in an attempt to get Cardinal into a better mood. She sees his jaw move as he contemplates the question, his shoulders moving in a small shrug.

It feels good, to talk like this, with him. Normal. To brainstorm, state the facts, see where their minds take them. And they both land on the realization that the Barstows, perfect Irina and Roman, were actually gun runners at about the same time.

* * *

She should have seen this. Should have realized, what is going on, with John. Why he was really after those notes, why he was so focused, so obsessed with them. She’d just, she’d just thought that, that it was something he needed to, to get out of his system. That he needed to feel, useful. Like he was doing something, for his late wife. She never would have guessed how bad it really is, and now she thinks that, what kind of partner is she? That she did not see it? That she didn’t guess it? How much does she really know him, understand him?

“Tell me what you need, Lise.”

The immediate response she has, to Dyson’s question, is one word. A simple, three letter word.

_You._

She barely manages to bite down on her tongue in time to keep the traitorous syllable from slipping out. Succeeds just in time, to stop herself from telling Dyson what it is she needs.

Delorme draws a slow breath, somehow able to swallow down a weary sigh.

She’s, tired. It’s been one hell of a night, and it looks like it’s a long way from over. And all she wants, really, is to reach out and take Dyson’s hand. Wants to get up and walk around the desk and sit down in Noelle’s lap. Wants to rest her head on her shoulder and turn her face into the smaller woman’s neck.

I need you, she wants to say. I need you to hold me and tell me it’ll be alright. I need you to lie to me, just for a little. Make me believe that we are something, that I’m worth something.

She reaches up and rubs her hand over her forehead before dropping it in her lap.

Dyson and her, they haven’t, talked. Not privately, that is. Of course they speak to each other, at work, but that is always case related. Always focuses on their work now. But besides that,s he hasn’t spoken to Noelle. About what happened, when she was at her house, following the violent suicide Dyson witnessed. They haven’t discussed it, at all. Haven’t mentioned it, beyond the other woman’s veiled message that encounters like this, between them, have to stop.

Not that it was bad sex. It was, fantastic. Well, okay, not fantastic, considering what had led them to connect that way again in the first place. But it had been amazing, still. They’re so ridiculously compatible that Lise finds it astoundingly easy, to just lose herself in the moment. When Dyson is touching her, when they are kissing, it’s like her brain just, turns off. Short-circuits, and all that it can focus on then is Noelle and her body and how Lise can interact with her. And if she’s being honest, she missed it. Missed that kind of connection with the smaller woman.

But having sex with Dyson, after an experience like that, it probably was a mistake. A rather selfish one, and Delorme shouldn’t have done it. Should have told her no, because it certainly hadn’t been healthy. And it has only contributed to how entangled, how complicated their relationship is to navigate. It really hasn’t made things any easier, on the contrary, and Delorme could just kick herself for it.

She feels like an utter failure. Especially after tonight and the events that transpired. Twice now she’s failed spectacularly, regarding the ATM robberies. One time ended with a young man in hospital, unconscious, the doctors not sure if he may have sustained permanent brain damage. And the second time, she managed to get the poor guy’s father killed. Failed to protect him, keep him save.

And then, to make matters even worse, their suspect slipped through her fingers. Well, not through her fingers, exactly, more like, out of her sight. She should have worn different shoes, should have been working out more. If she’d just been a little faster, she would have managed to catch him in time. Probably. Or she might have ended up on the business end of the gun that killed their suspect as well.

And Cardinal. She should have realized what was going on. Should have figured it out. His fixation with those notes, it makes even more sense now. She knew something was going on. Something wasn’t right. Yet she’s been so busy, with her own bullshit, that she hadn’t been there for him. Hadn’t seemed to be available for a conversation with him. She failed him in that regard. Failed to be a friend, failed to offer him an ear and no judgment.

She could just slap herself silly.

And now Dyson is talking to her like, this. With her voice so soft, the anger of their last interaction gone completely. She looks at her with this almost soft expression, and Lise is both grateful for it and wants to hide from it at the same time. It’s so much, too much, but at the same time, it’s exactly what she’s needing, wanting, and her head is spinning way too fast for her to be able to puzzle any of this out, right now.

Dyson lets out a deep sigh and hides her face in her hands, for a moment. It makes Lise swallow thickly, the unbearable urge to lean forward and place her hand on the other woman’s arm welling up yet again.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs instead. Swallows and shifts before she crosses her arms. Dyson lowers her hand, looking so incredibly tired, for a moment, that it takes Delorme’s breath away. It only lasts a moment, before the DS regains control, but it is enough for her to be rather worried, about the other woman. More than she’s already been.

“Could you,” Delorme starts, her brows knitting as she considers her idea, for a moment. “Can you tell him to, back down?” she suggests.

Dyson’s brows twitch in confusion and this time, Lise straightens. Leans forward and places her crossed arms on the desk.

“Tell Cardinal that Catherine is not an ongoing case and that he needs to stand down. That he has to leave it alone,” she tells her.

“And you think he will do that?” the older woman asks her with an arch of her brow.

“Yes,” Lise nods. Licks her lips, touching a hand to her hair. “If it is a direct order, he will listen to it. Even if he won’t want to, even if he still feels like he should be doing something about it. It will give him time to take a breath. To look at this with some, objectivity,” she says, frowning down at her arms as she crosses them again.

“Objectivity may be the wrong word,” she sighs. “But it might snap him out of this current, obsession. It will at least give me a bit of time, to get through to him,” she shakes her head.

Dyson slowly nods. Searches her face, watching Lise intently.

“Do you want him off the case?” she asks.

Delorme feels her heart skip a beat.

Part of her wants to say yes and thank Dyson. This case, it needs to be solved. And when they do, they cannot have a lawyer throw it out of court because Cardinal decides to fuck everything up. That’s not something she will allow to happen.

But they need this case solved. And even with his head all screwed up like it is, Cardinal is still a brilliant cop. He’s still an amazing detective and Lise’s partner. She still trusts him, though the level of trust has certainly taken a rather large blow to it. She needs him on this, needs his experience and his eyes. Their thought processes line up kind of well, they are rather compatible, but they do come at things from different angles and have different perspectives. It’s kind of amazing, really. Though she’d rather not think about that, right now.

“No,” she finally says, a sigh escaping her. “I think he needs to, cool off. Take the weekend. It’s Thanksgiving anyway. But this case, it is a, a mess, and I could really use another set of hands.”

Dyson meets her gaze and holds it. There’s a lump in her throat, one that makes it difficult to swallow, for Delorme. But then the DS nods and turns to her computer.

“Alright,” she nods. “Telling Cardinal to back off,” she says as she angles her keyboard and Lise takes that as her dismissal. She inclines her head and uncrosses her legs, standing.

In the doorway, she hesitates, casting a glance back to watch Dyson frown at her monitor.

She looks, older. And exhausted. It makes Delorme wonder, how much sleep the woman has been getting. Makes her wonder, as well, how things are at home. How she’s doing, with her niece. And Sylvie.

She shakes her head, stepping out of her boss’s office and heads for the restroom. Closes the door behind herself and rests her head against it, her back pressing against the wood as Delorme closes her eyes.

She needs to go home. Get drunk and curl up in bed and have a good cry. It will do her some mighty good, she thinks, to find some release for her pent-up emotions.

At the same time, she’s well aware that this won’t be happening any time soon. There’s no way in hell she’s going home right now. Even if it is the middle of the night, the case has heated up again, and she needs to be here and look at the evidence and new leads and everything they already have and figure out what fits together and how.

Plus, there’s still Cardinal. She still has to talk to him, still has to deal with him and, this. This huge mess.

It actually hurts. To know that he didn’t tell her about this. That he didn’t think he could come to her with his suspicions, with his doubts. That he felt like she would somehow, what? Not be willing to listen? Laugh at him? Tell him he’s crazy? That she would not back him one hundred percent, if she suspected for even a second that Catherine might not have killed herself?

Delorme frowns, opening her eyes. She looks up at the ceiling tiles, staring at a water mark on it.

It does seem crazy. Catherine Cardinal, the victim of a murder? Could it be?

Delorme draws a slow breath. Tries to push her bias away and look at the case again.

There was a suicide note. Catherine had a history of mental illness. John had just recently told her he was worried about her. She’d seemed, erratic, even to Lise, who hadn’t really known her all that well she was willing to admit.

The only thing that has confused her about the thing, had been Catherine’s note for Cardinal. Asking him to come downtown to meet her, that hadn’t seemed like something someone who was going to kill themselves would do. But then again, with Catherine’s history, she might have been kind of okay, when she wrote the note, and then she’d just taken a complete tailspin and it had culminated in her finally taking the permanent way out. That seems a lot more likely than her having been killed. Especially since there had been no signs of someone else having been there, no signs of a struggle or foul play whatsoever.

The female detective shakes her head and steps away from the door. She turns on the sink, allowing the water to run cold before she dips her hands under the stream, the biting sensation clearing the final cobwebs of confusion from her mind. As the water shuts off, she reaches up, touching her cold fingers to her eyes, the coolness on her skin refreshing her a little.

Delorme grabs two paper towels, drying herself off and tossing them. She casts a last look in the mirror, noticing how tired she still looks, before she grabs the door handle and leaves the restroom, bracing herself for the next conversation.

It’s going to be a really, really long night.


End file.
